


We're All Friends Here, Right?

by Lissamel



Series: Inky Souls & The Depths Below (or, Lissa's Ink Machine Canon) [4]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Blood, Gen, How Do I Tag, It's not a lot of blood, Rituals, Stabbing, These tags make it sound worse than it is, forced transformation, oh geez
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 23:54:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11611596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lissamel/pseuds/Lissamel
Summary: Everybody needs a best pal. Everybody.





	We're All Friends Here, Right?

“I don’t like it.”

From his wheelchair, Joey Drew balked. He uselessly worked his mouth for a while, as though physically unable to comprehend what he was hearing. “You don’t... _ Like _ it?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Is there an echo in ‘ere?”

The man uttered a few nonsense syllables in an attempt to process what he was hearing. It didn’t particularly seem to help, so he just stared, nonplussed. “But... _ How _ ?” His hands began to fidget, “I-I have, I have given him your  _ blood _ , he--He’s drank from the--I-I loosened up his mind for you, I have changed him, I have! And you don’t…?”

Joey Drew was talking to a demon. This, amazingly enough, was a rather normal occurrence. The demon was three feet tall and made of ink (well,  _ primarily _ ink; there was some old paint in there, and maybe some blood too) and resembled Joey’s favorite creation: Bendy the dancing demon. It was sitting in his desk chair and had one leg crossed over the other. At some point it had turned around and rummaged through the drawers of Joey’s desk, finding a metal bottle of turpentine; and now it took off the cap and took a drink from the bottle as though it were alcohol. “Listen, Joey, pal,” It said, “Y’did what y’did, and y’did it for me, an’ that’s just swell. Ask for a body, you go an’ get me a body. It’s nice! Real nice. But...Y’know. Jus’ ain’t my style.”

“H-how!? He’s able-bodied, sound of mind, aesthetically pleasing, with a nice voice, well-respected, tall--”

Bendy’s fingers tightened around the metal bottle, and Joey flinched at the sound, going silent. “I ain’t  _ blind, _ buddy. I  _ know _ . But y’want me ‘ta talk frank?” Some ink from the top of it’s head began to drip into it’s eyes, perhaps to give the illusion of eyelids lowering, but frankly the effect was far more unnerving than that. “You  _ ruined  _ it. I ain’t gonna be walkin’ around in somethin’ my best pal  _ wrecked _ , know what I’m sayin’? So I want a new one, just as good,  _ not _ ruined. Capiche?”

“Wrecked…?” His voice wasn’t above a barely understanding mutter. Joey looked at the demon in hope of some clarity, but it just took another drink of the turpentine, and the creator knew in his heart asking the thing would probably be futile. “I-I understand,” He said, even though he really didn’t.

“Good!” Bendy put on a big smile, leaning forward in the chair. “I should  _ hope _ so, Joey, pal. I gotta collect my end’a the deal  _ sooooome _ -time. You don’ want me gettin’ impatient, do ‘ya?”

“Of co-course not--”

“You don’t want me havin’ ‘ta take away all that money, do ‘ya? All th’  _ attention _ ? Bring ‘ya back to the low-life shmuck ‘ya used to be--Or maybe,” There was a laugh, chipper yet distorted and goopy. The ink that had gotten into it’s eyes began to go even lower, running all down it’s face, it’s teeth sharpening. “Even less. ‘Cause th’ devil’s gotta get it’s due, buddy-old-pal. So if you ain’t gonna get me a  _ body _ , I’m gonna hav’ta take somethin’  _ else _ from ‘ya--But we don’t want that. Do we, chum?”

Joey had blanched a bit, his eyes no longer looking at the demon in his desk chair. He drew in a breath. He forced on one of his smiles, one that maybe was supposed to be confident and charismatic, though that didn’t quite read as such in present company. “We--We don’t. I’ll fi-find a new one. I...I promise.”

The demon nodded, and there was a ‘pop’ noise as it returned to it’s original, cutsey appearance. “Aw, I always knew you were a smart man!” It beamed before setting the turpentine back onto Joey’s desk and sliding off of the chair. “You ain’t let me down yet! I know you won’t start now. I trust you, partner!” Bendy smiled a cheeky grin, rocking forward on it’s toes and waving Joey goodbye before all at once melting down into a puddle and seeping into the floorboards, vanishing entirely. 

Joey stared at the spot the demon used to be. He reached up one hand, going under his glasses and rubbing one of his eyes. After all that work, all that effort...What had gone wrong? He thought he was to be free from his debts, but  _ no _ , it didn’t  _ like _ it, and he couldn’t even begin to understand why. Maybe things had gotten a  _ little _ out of hand, but it was all to make it more habitable for the demon...Right?

He heard a yelp coming from the basement, half in fright and half in shock.

The man got up from his wheelchair, getting his cane for support and putting the desk chair back behind his desk before sitting down. He capped the turpentine and put it away. Then he got a few sheets of paper, picked up his pen, and began to sketch out some backdrops to take his mind off of all the troubles of the studio, and the voice--The man he'd poisoned with ink-tainted cups of coffee, the man the demon said he'd 'wrecked'--In the basement. It was just another thing to eventually get to. Another thing to figure out how to fix. And he would fix it! He would!

Right now, however, there were other things on his mind.

 

~

 

Wally Franks had lost his keys.  _ Again. _

This was a depressingly common occurrence for him. He could only thank his lucky stars that everyone was so forgiving, and that other people were so helpful. Norman had found them before him more times than he could count, Susie had a mental map of all the likely spots and she’d always push him in the right directions, even some of the animators and the band members could provide useful. But all of those people had gone home by now. Wally was alone. And he couldn’t go home without all of his keys, lest Sammy or Joey find out, and he’d be thrown into the gutter for his clumsiness.

He couldn’t find them anywhere upstairs, and warily he looked down the stairwell to the lower floor. The lower floor was...Weird, these days. It was an unspoken rule that you didn’t go down there unless you  _ had _ to. Norman wasn’t complaining about Sammy shooing him out of the band room anymore, but that was replaced with a disconcerting  _ lack _ of information regarding the music director. Joey had said  _ one _ thing regarding him...But if such was the  _ case _ , why wasn’t anybody new hired? Really, it was a lot of oddities that made Wally’s stomach a little upset; though who was he to ask too many questions? Not his business to meddle in, anyhow. The janitor steeled himself up a bit before hopping down the stairwell two steps at a time, landing on the floor with a bit of flourish and a small laugh. He knew there was nobody watching to laugh or applaud, but being a bit ridiculous helped him to keep his nerves down. Taking a moment to collect himself and roll his shoulders back, Wally’s eyes went to the ground, scouring every nook and cranny for these missing keys. Not there, not there, not… 

“ _ Bendy loves me, this I know, for it’s voice doth tell me so…” _

Wally froze. Somebody  _ else _ was down here? It was a pretty quiet sound, almost trembling. “‘Ey, hello?” He called out, then waited for a moment or two in hope of an answer. There wasn’t any. One hand went onto his hip, and he shook his head, dismissing the sound as just his nerves getting to him. Keys, that’s what he was here for. He clasped his hands behind his back and tried to walk with a little hop in his step to keep his spirits up, coming into the band room and checking under every instrument. Not under the drum, or the piano, and it would be pretty hard to hide something under a fiddle, wouldn’t it?

“ _ Little ones to it belong, we are weak while it is strong…” _

There it was again! Louder, this time! Was it coming from inside the walls!? If Wally’s hair could physically puff up from fright, it might have. He stood up stick-straight, running a hand through his red-brown hair in some attempt to calm himself down again. “I-I said,  _ hello _ ? Anybody in ‘ere?” Nobody replied once again, which made him softly groan. This place  _ better _ not be getting to his  _ head _ . He looked over to count all the instruments and try to remember if he’d looked under all of them before his eyes caught on a tape recorder on a shelf. Was that... _ Always _ there? What was there to record in this place, anyway? He walked up to the recorder and hit the ‘play’ button.

“Every artistic person needs a sanctuary. Joey Drew has his, and I’ve got mine.”

“ _ Yes, Bendy loves me. Yes, Bendy loves me. Yes, Bendy loves me, it’s voice doth tell me so…” _

Hearing the two voices concurrently was annoying, to say the least, but Wally did his best to block out the singing as the voice on the tape recorder listed out four instruments in unnecessarily poetic language. The voice on the tape sounded familiar--It was Sammy. He  _ knew _ it was Sammy; specifically, Sammy in a  _ mood.  _ Actually--He allowed himself to tune the singing back in--Were these two the  _ same _ voice? But Joey had said...Wally had no idea what was going on down here anymore. Maybe his missing keys had found their way into Sammy’s ‘sanctuary’. Or maybe he’d find the source of the singing in there. Either way, opening it seemed to be something beneficial. Wally didn’t consider himself very musically inclined, but he walked around the music room, summoning notes from the four required instruments and then waiting.

Nothing.

Well,  _ that _ was a waste of time. He frowned, looking over all the instruments again, muttering to himself. Why would Sammy just record a message about a ‘sanctuary’ and then just have it mean nothing? That wasn’t really like him.

“ _ Bendy loves me, loves me still, though I’m very weak and ill… _ ”

Bendy, Bendy, Bendy! Work hours were over, yet he was  _ still _ hearing about that little devil. Still, it did give him a thought. He shifted, looking up at the projector. Couldn’t just have music with nothing to put it  _ to _ , right? He’d have to tell Sammy he forgot that on his tape--The idea of just walking up to the music director after hours and egging him about forgetting this detail proved funny to Wally, and he let out a half-laugh. He hopped up the stairs to the projector booth, and took a glance down--Huh, when did a cut-out of the demon get there?--Before flicking the projector on. A flickering white light came onto the wall. Once again Wally jumped down the stairs two at a time before going back to the instruments, summoning one note from each once again. This time, a sound greeted him, the sound of something shifting, moving, opening up. Success! Who knew Sammy’s favorite song was four absolutely tuneless notes? Again Wally laughed at the thought, putting his hands behind his back and strolling up to the now-open doorway to the ‘sanctuary’. He leaned against the doorway, looking almost casual...Before his eyes locked on the thing inside. 

It was a vaguely humanoid shape, but it was utterly black, bits of itself always dripping off. It was sitting against the wall with it’s knees pulled to it’s chest, arms wrapped around it’s legs. It had stopped in it’s singing, and it’s head turned, looking at the man in the doorway. It’s face was utterly featureless, but Wally could make out divots and ridges where eyes, a nose, and a mouth should have been. Then it stood up, bracing itself against the wall for support before pushing away and standing in front of Wally. It wore overalls. It stared at Wally in silence.

Slightly overwhelmed by the thing staring at him, Wally let out a nervous laugh. “Ah...Sammy?” It didn’t reply. “Sammy, you’re lookin’--Well. Uh, y’know, Joey said you’d…” He thought the better of that statement, shaking his head. “Haven’t seen ‘ya in--What’s it been,  _ years _ ? Man! I, well, uh--Hey, hey, good news! You’ll love this. You’re an uncle now!” He stopped leaning against the doorway to gesture to the man made of ink, putting a big grin on his freckled face. “Yep! Johnny found this girl and they have a daughter! Lil’ Kitty! Katherine Lawrence! Oh, Kitty, you’d love her, sweetest lil’ thing...We’ll hav’ta get’cha introduced! Well, I mean, wash ‘ya off first, make sure Johnny doesn’t just fall over from seein’ his brother alive an’--”

“You think it’s so simple?”

“Not ‘ta mention makin’ sure everybody knows you’re down ‘ere and not--Wait,” Wally blinked once or twice, eyes fixing on Sammy. “Didja say somethin’?”

“Do you  _ really think _ it’s so simple as that?” Sammy’s head tilted to the left. When he spoke, Wally could see his teeth, which were slightly yellowing--Disconcerting, considering Sammy’s appreciation for dental hygiene to the extent he always sort of smelled like toothpaste. He held out one of his arms to Wally, then raked the fingers of his opposite hand down his arm, as though attempting to scratch off the ink. He repeated this gesture a few more times, leaving deep finger impressions in his arm, to the point where Wally was afraid he’d scratch all the way through. “It doesn’t  _ come off _ ,” Sammy said, beginning to scratch at his arm more furiously, flecks of ink flying off. “It’s  _ eaten _ me! It’s eaten me  _ whole _ ! There  _ is _ no washing it off, it doesn’t come off,  _ it doesn’t come off! _ ” Wally took a subconscious step backwards, and Sammy stopped, lowering his arms and scowling. “Why have you come here? Just to  _ taunt _ me? To  _ remind _ me of all I cannot go back to because of  _ what  _ I am?” 

The janitor uselessly worked his mouth, fumbling over his tongue for a moment. “Actually, I, uh--C’mon, Sammy, you know I don’t mean any harm by any’a this. We’ll fix ‘ya up! You’ll be able ‘ta go out an’ see Johnny and Kitty an’ the missus an’ everybody else, too, no problem! Fix ‘ya, then you’ll go home, eat your sandies--Y’still like those, right?--An’ everything will be just like--”

“Silence.”

“An’ I’m sure everybody’ll be so happy to see--Uh, what?”

“ _ Silence! _ ” Sammy slammed a fist against the wall, which made Wally softly yelp and skitter just the slightest bit farther back. “ _ Still _ your  _ ignorant tongue _ ! Don’t you talk as though salvation is something so easily brought!  _ You _ cannot save me. In my state,  _ you _ could never  _ save me. _ ”

A sheepish laugh. “Aw, c’mon, under all’a that you’re still a  _ person _ \--”

“A  _ person _ !?” Sammy’s teeth began grinding. “Should I try to  _ sleep _ , I begin to  _ melt. _ I become a  _ goopy, sticky mess  _ until I  _ awaken _ again, at which point I have to  _ pull myself together. _ Do you do that? Do you do that when you sleep?”

Wally’s eyes darted back and forth, some fear flickering in his eyes, though he attempted to keep a smile on his face. “Uh, hah, well, can’t say I do, Sam--”

Sammy’s hand trailed down the wall, face moving into a scowl. “And yet you still think I’m  _ human. _ I am not! And I never shall be! Not until the lord, the savior, sees me in my faith and pulls me free from this--Here!” Suddenly, with speed the janitor never would have expected from the former music director, Sammy grabbed one of Wally’s wrists. Wally let out a squeak, but Sammy yanked Wally’s hand to the inky man’s chest, pressing it against it. There was a long moment of silence. Then, “Do you feel anything?”

A pause. Wally fidgeted, trying to pull himself free from the inky mass, but to no avail. “Uh,” His fingers curled, “Sh-should I?”

“No pulse. My...Pulse left.  _ Years _ ago. Trapped down here, unable to ever leave, betrayed, left bleeding at the palm...Oh, how I used to deny it’s voice, how I used to beg and plead for it to leave, but now! Now. Now I understand,” Sammy released Wally’s wrist. The janitor stuck out his tongue in disgust, pulling his hand back and shaking the ink off of it. “I am it’s prophet. I do it favors, and it rewards me in turn. It will set me free--If I can only prove myself to it.” But then he went silent. His head tilted. He stared at Wally, a smile coming onto his face. “I know what it wants.”

Wally stopped shaking out his hand, freezing up. Sammy came a little closer, and in response Wally went back. “Should I ask what it wants? Who’s ‘it’, anyway?” He asked.

“A body.” Sammy let himself laugh a bit, hands tracing over his overalls. One hand seemed to merge with the ink of his own body, and when he yanked it back out, he was holding an old fountain pen. “...It has told me. It desires a body. For giving it what it wants, it shall certainly return the favor to me--!”

Wally didn’t consider himself brightest man in the entire studio. He knew his own shortcomings, and he tried to be humble about him. But even Wally understood what Sammy meant, even if he didn’t entirely comprehend what he was raving about. Moving too quickly for his own legs to keep up with, Wally turned, almost tripping on his own feet, and began to run. He wasn’t sure where he intended to flee to, but he was going to book it straight out of here, lock the door, and never come back. He quit! He didn’t know what Joey meant by keeping Sammy a secret, or by all the other oddities he’d begun to pick up on--And he didn’t care! He turned the corner, no longer caring about his missing keys as he began to dash past the big sign for the music department.

There was something there.

The man tried to stop, or at the very least change his trajectory, but instead Wally completely lost balance. Flailing his limbs in a manner that would probably have been funny if any of this was a laughing matter, Wally tripped, rolled back on his heel, and collapsed onto his back. The wind was knocked out of him, and barely taking a moment to catch his breath, he struggled to stand up. His head tilted upwards. Something was holding him down by the ankles--Black, inky creatures; things that looked humanoid if Wally squinted a bit but were missing lower halves. Two held his legs, and two more pressed down his wrists when he tried to swat them away. Still, he squirmed, pulling and twisting and letting out cries of pain when something sharp dug into his skin but never once submitting.

“Our savior who art in this temple, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in hellish domain.”

Wally’s eyes swiveled upwards. There was Sammy, upside-down from the janitor’s perspective, pen in one hand, now wearing the face of a Bendy cardboard cut-out as a mask. Even with the thing obstructing his face, though, his smile was visible. “Silly tricks throughout the night, giving us those laughing frights. We’ll always remember you, demon friend, with smiles on faces ‘til the end.” He said this with the same weight and rapt sincerity as the lines of prayer before, but Wally knew those to just be song lyrics, sounding extremely tonally different without the jaunty patter melody behind it. The pen in his fingers shifted.

“Sa--Now, c’mon,  _ Sammy, _ ” Wally’s attempts at keeping his nerves down by laughing to himself resulted in this weak, fluttery noise that didn’t help anything. “It’s jus’ me! Jus’ Wally! Wal--Wallace Franks? We’re st-still pals, right? Stop--Stop all’a this! You ain’t like this, we all know it, we’ll get’cha a doc and--”

“ _ Silence _ !” His voice was somehow even louder than the last time he shouted the word, and Wally quieted himself so quickly he practically choked on his tongue. “Cease your  _ bleating _ , little lamb. Today is the day of your ascension. The prophet has chosen you.” Sammy lowered himself, shifting until he sat on his legs, reaching one finger forward and tracing a thin line from the middle of Wally’s forehead to the tip of his nose. Ink droplets rolled down either side of his nose and towards the corners of his eyes, and in response Wally squeezed his eyes shut, which seemed to please the self-proclaimed prophet. “You will not go to waste. Your body will bring us towards the light, towards our freedom! You’ll be something grand. You will set us free! May the ink demon be kind to your soul. May the lord accept your form as a habitable home and bless it’s disciples in turn. For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever and ever. Amen!” The strange inky monsters let out half-hissing, half-gurgling noises that might have been a return of Sammy’s ‘amen’. 

Wally let out a few shaky breaths, every muscle in his body tensing up. Tears forced their way out of his eyes. His teeth clenched, but even still, he made a whimpering sound. “ _ Please… _ ”

For one moment, all was still.

Then, with both hands, Sammy rose the fountain pen up and sharply stabbed it into Wally’s throat. 

He paused for a moment as Wally’s breathing began to diminish, blood coming from the wound. He yanked out the pen and then stabbed it in a couple more times, for good measure. Silence. Wally’s chest stopped rising and falling. The pen was taken out of his throat then tossed aside, rolling across the wooden floorboards. Sammy gestured, and the monsters released the former janitor. He drew out a pentagram on the floor with his hand, then a few more strange glyphs around it, murmuring under his breath the whole time. He came to his feet (or whatever could be considered feet on him) and took Wally’s body by the shoulders, pulling him into the pentagram. He let him go before folding his hands in front of him. “Sheep, sheep, sheep, it’s time for sleep. Rest your head, it’s time for bed. In the morning, you may wake...Or in the morning, you’ll be dead.” His hands separated. He looked up. “Hear me, Bendy! Arise from the darkness and accept the form I have found for your grace! He is to be your vessel, your chosen, your voice, your body! Claim him, for he has been chosen, for he is willing!”

At Sammy’s feet, the lines of the pentagram began filling in with ink until it was no longer a pentagram but a dark circle. Wally’s body, slowly, was dragged into the inky vortex. Once it had entirely vanished into the pool, the inky patches lightened until it was merely a pentagram on the floor. 

Silence.

And then, a voice, sounding like it was coming from the ink on the floors itself.

“Wowzers, would’ja look at this! I sure didn’t think ‘ya’d go ‘round doin’  _ this _ to poor schmucks, but look at you, provin’ me wrong! You really are somethin’ special, Sammy-boy.”

A pleased smile came onto his face. “I thank you, my savior. Your praise is humbling,” He said, then shifted, leaning just the slightest bit closer to the ink on the floor. “Do you like it? I know, above all else, you seek a body worthy of your divine form.”

“Hmm…” There was a long pause, some mutters thrown in, as though the demon itself was looking the body over. Sammy held his breath. Then it replied, “I don’t like it,” in a voice all too passive and causal.

Sammy straightened up, smile wiped off of his face. Even the monsters near his feet looked befuddled. “You--You find it unworthy? But how? I have chosen him for your grace--”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Shut yer trap. Look, Sammy-boy, I ‘preciate the effort, an’ all that, but…” A small chuckle, “Don’cha know it’s easier ‘ta crawl into somethin’ still livin’ than tryin’ to restart the heart of a dead guy?”

His mouth went into a concerned frown of realization. He hadn’t even  _ considered _ \--! Sammy looked away, uncomfortably shifting. “M-my apologies,” His voice was soft, “You--You know I seek only to serve you, my lord. I-I live to please. I...I will find you something more suitable.”

“I should hope so, Sammy-boy! Yer usually true to yer word, an’ that’s what I love about ‘ya. You get why I can’t go walkin’ around with a big hole in my throat.” 

Sammy winced.

“But I’ll sure take this offerin’! Nothin’ makes me happier than knowin’ yer thinkin’ of me, and havin’ that shown through these sacrificial lambs, nya ha! Yer in my good graces, buddy-o-mine.” A beat. The voice dropped. “Let’s hope it stays that way, huh?”

“I will please you in all I do. I’ll see to it.”

“Good! Now, scamper off, ain’t nothin’ ‘ta see ‘ere. Thanks a bundle for this sacrifice, pal! I’ll always remember th’ good lil’ sheep who gave it ‘ta me. Toodles!”

The voice went quiet. Obediently, Sammy nodded, and he beckoned to the monsters so they’d follow him as he left.

The voice of the demon mused one more thing.

“Mmm, hate ‘ta waste a good soul, though…”

 

~

 

“ _ When I get hold of the big bad wolf, I just push him under to drown...Then I bite him in a million bits and I gobble him right down!” _

Wally’s head ached. His entire body felt heavy. Somebody was singing, but he couldn’t quite tell from where. He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids felt like they had weights attached to them. What had happened last night? Had he had too much to drink or something? That didn’t feel right, though then again his mind currently ‘felt’ like the empty flickering of a blank film reel, so he wasn’t inclined to trust his feelings. He curled his fingers, then sort of wiggled his body to get a sense of where he was in space, to wake himself up gradually. He was sitting down, chin to his chest. Alright, good to know. He straightened out his head…

...Only to do it too quickly and slam it against something hard.

Ow, ow, ow. Mocking cuckoo-birds twittered in his ears (what?) as his eyes opened. His vision was swimming. Wally’s hands went on either side of his head, trying to still his vision and get a better idea as to what was going on. 

Someone stopped singing. Footsteps came up to his side, a hand patting his arm. “Aw, wake yerself up too hard, buddy? Well, can’t say I didn’t see it coming. You  _ were _ sleepin’ with the fishies for a while, there!” The turn of phrase made the other person cheerfully laugh. “Hey, hey, look over here. How many fingers?”

Wally turned his head, trying to focus on the fingers, but everything was still vibrating too much to see things clearly. Four fingers? Nine? Twelve? Then things began to settle. “Three? Three!” His vision realigned, and he could clearly see three fingers of a gloved hand, the correct answer being met with enthusiastic nods from Bendy the dancing demon. Wally couldn’t help but feel a little pride at…

…

_ That was Bendy. _

Wally loudly yelped, making an attempt to claw away from the living cartoon. Considering the thing at his back, this consisted of awkwardly shimmying off to the side, only to find the thing at his back was shorter than anticipated, losing his weight support, and collapsing onto his side.  _ Oof. _ He blinked a few times, then pushed himself up. He looked back, then upwards. The Ink Machine. He stared, transfixed for a long moment, before his eyes went down and focused on...Something  _ else _ in his field of view. His hands reached out, and poked at it--His two gloved hands, connected to pure black arms, poking at an oval nose on top of a snout, a snout,  _ a snout _ \--

Wally screamed.

“‘Ey! Shh! Shh! It’s alright, it’s all alright!” Little footsteps scampered up to his side again, a hand stroking his leg in an attempt to comfort him. His breathing a bit ragged, Wally looked down to see it was Bendy ( _ that was Bendy, Bendy the cartoon character, the demon, he was alive, and right there, right there! _ ), with one hand on the leg of his overalls ( _ just don’t think about it, this isn’t real, this can’t be real _ ), a concerned look on it’s face--Well, as concerned as inky pie-cut eyes could ever possibly look. “Pull yerself together, Boris! Y’don’t wanna alarm anybody, do ‘ya? Yer alright, it’s all jus’ dandy!”

It certainly did not feel all just dandy. He reached his hands up and let them wrap around something sticking out of his head, sharply yanking on one of the ears--It stretched like rubber but didn’t cause him any pain, and when he let go a snapping sound indicated it’d returned to it’s rightful place.  _ No, no, no _ ! His name was  _ Wally _ , Wallace Oswald Franks,  _ not _ Boris, and he was a  _ person _ , and Bendy wasn’t actually a real  _ thing _ , and this was all--A wail left him, partially in shock and partially in horror. “What the #&!! is--And  _ you’re _ \--And  _ I’m _ \--!?” This was the most coherent thing Wally could put together vocally, his arms flailing around as he attempted to wrap his mind around it. “T-tell me what’s goin’ on ‘ere! C-can I get a cigar, where’s my-- _ You’re _ \--!”

Bendy let out a low whistle. “Jiminy Cricket! You’re a bit out’a sorts, ain’t ‘ya, Boris? Oh, but don’t you sweat it! Yer old pal Bendy ‘ere will make sure you’re put back together again! Sure is a shame that--”

“Would’ja stop  _ callin’ _ me that!?” Wally’s interruption jarred the demon out of speaking so suddenly that little inky lines of shock appeared around it’s head. “My name’s  _ Wally _ ! An’--An’ you’re not even  _ real _ ! You’re a cartoon ch-character!”

For just a second, Bendy’s mouth curved into a little frown. All too quickly, however, it smiled again, hands going onto it’s hips. “You are too, ‘ya big palooka! You get some acetone in the eyes again? That stuff can sting, lemme say!”

“Nah, no, I’m--” As he made a gesture with his hands, his eyes locked onto his gloves, and he became all too aware he had only four fingers. “God- _ %@*^ _ -it! I’m  _ Wally _ ! I’m a human person! I--I just came in to find my  _ keys _ ,” Bendy was frowning again, “An’ Sammy went all--Sammy-- _ Johnny! _ First his brother dies, and then his pal becomes--He’s gonna  _ die _ of a broken heart at this--” A bit of ink was dripping from the demon’s forehead and melding with it’s eyes, “And not ‘ta mention I actually wanted to get a life out for myself, lookin’ at Kitty made me think, ‘wow, Wally, wouldn’t it be great ‘ta have some kids of your own’--Th’ kids ‘re why I took this job! Shouldn’t ‘a bothered! Y’know what happens back where I used ‘ta be? Back on them automobile assembly lines?  _ Not this _ , I’ll tell ‘ya that!  _ Not this! _ ” Wally looked at little Bendy, his breathing skipping a bit when he saw how displeased it looked, but he tried to steel up his nerves. “...You. I dunno how ‘ya did all’a this, but--Y’gotta change me back. Y’gotta.”

Bendy stared at the three-dimensional living cartoon wolf in front of it for a long time. It shook it’s head. It tutted softly under it’s breath. “Y’know, Boris, you jus’ ain’t actin’ right.” Wally opened his mouth to object, but the demon got a little melted and distorted, which prompted him to shut up. “I go outta’ my way ‘ta get my best friend out here--And let me tell ‘ya, getting that  _ soul _ out from that there  _ corpse _ wasn’t the  _ easiest  _ thing I had ‘ta do in my life--An’ what do I get in return? Some big ‘ole codfish of a  _ wolf _ that’s goin’ around tellin’ me it don’t  _ like _ it.” A huge, heaving sigh left Bendy. “ _ Clearly, _ ” It’s hands reached out, snatching Wally by the suspenders and dragging him nearer to it, “I gotta be doin’ everything  _ myself _ ‘round these parts.” With a little ‘hup’, it lept onto Wally’s shoulders, placing one foot on each shoulder and leaning itself against the back of his head. Wally let out a small bark and tried to reach up and grab the demon, but he was stopped by the feeling of something dripping on his head, down his neck, and onto his spine. Despite the cartoon body being practically unfeeling, the dripping felt  _ horrifically _ cold, not to mention sticky and damp. But that wasn’t the end of it. As every drop rolled down the back of his head and went along his spine, his head pulsed, aching. A fog went through his mind, and Wally groaned, shutting his eyes…

The fog began to clear.

He opened his eyes again.

“W-wow...I-I dunno what happened to me, I sure wasn’t feelin’ so good…”

Wally didn’t say that. Or did he? His voice was lowered now, sounding more like the way Boris sounded on the old cartoons. With a chuckle (sounding less chipper and more malicious), Bendy jumped off of the wolf, a ‘pop’ noise signalling it’s return to it’s childish on-model form. “Yeah, you weren’t talkin’ so good either, nya ha! But I think I jus’ about fixed ‘ya up right. You feelin’ alright, Boris?”

_ No, I’m not, and my name is Wally, I’ve told you _ \--

“Alright as rain, Bendy! You really are something special.”

Some gray-toned blush came onto Bendy’s cheeks, and bashfully it waved a hand. “You don’t hav’ta be a flatterer! I only want what’s best for my buddies, that’s that!” The blush faded. It’s head turned, hearing the movement of hinges as someone came into the studio. “Ooh! That oughta’ be Joey pal!” It straightened out it’s bow tie, “Ain’t he gonna be thrilled ‘ta see ‘ya! C’mon, we gotta make yer big debut!” It reached up, grabbing the wolf by the hand as it led him out of the Ink Machine’s room and back into the wooden hallways.

Wally tried to force himself to stop walking. He tried to force the excited smile off of his face. He tried to force himself to scream, to say he  _ wasn’t _ Boris, his name was  _ Wally _ , and this was all wrong!

Instead, he said, “A real, live creator? Gosh, I never thought I’d be able to see one as long as I lived! This sure is an honor...D-do I hav’ta do anythin’ special?”

_ I’ve dealt with Joey millions ‘a times! What’re ‘ya even talkin’ about!? _

“Oh, just be your big, lovable self! Who wouldn’t love ‘ya?” A giggle left Bendy, but it pressed a finger to it’s mouth to signal silence from the wolf. He obliged. The two of them came up to Joey, who was leaning against his cane by the front entrance and looking through the mail with a small frown on his face.

_ Joey, I’ve said some bad things ‘bout ‘ya before, an’ I’m sorry, but ‘ya gotta help me, ‘ya gotta know it’s-- _

“Oh, Joey, pal! Lookie here!”

A slightly hitched gasp came from Joey, and he looked up from the mail. His eyes didn’t find the demon first; instead, they glued themselves to Boris the wolf, taller than the man was comfortable with and staring at him with a huge smile on his face. “...Wh-what’s  _ this _ !?” Joey asked, notes of both surprise and fear in his voice.

Bendy let go of the wolf’s hand in order to shrug. “It gets lonely for me in th’ studio at night! Everybody leaves, an’ I’m jus’ stuck with a buncha’ monsters--Bad conversation--Or Sammy-boy--Who, some nights, is even  _ worse _ !” A laugh, “So I decided ‘ta use yer big ‘ole fancy Ink Machine and make myself a friend! Can’t have Bendy without ‘is Boris, can ‘ya? He’s the best friend a demon like myself could ever ask for!” As though to prove it, Bendy leaned over and wrapped one of Boris’s legs in a big hug.

The wolf sheepishly chuckled. “Bendy, you’re jus’ too kind.”

“I know!” It let go of him again, putting it’s hands behind it’s back as it looked up at Joey. “So? You like ‘im, right? Can I keep ‘im?”

Joey’s eyes went over the wolf again and again, and he swallowed hard. “W-well…” He inhaled deeply, then exhaled...And smiled. “I guess it’s nice to have another member of the family around!” He stuck the mail under his arm and put out his hand, to which the wolf shook it with glee. “My name’s Joseph Drew--But, please, just call me Joey. You can stay around the studio as long as you like!” He looked down at Bendy, pulling his hand away from Boris. “Maybe you’ll help keep this one out of trouble?”

“I wouldn’t bet on it!” Bendy said, grinning wide. 

“Well, shucks, I can only try my best,” The wolf replied.

_ AUGH! _

“No harm in asking, right?” Joey let out a soft laugh of his own. “But I gotta get to my office. Some...Stuff I have to take care of. You be good, now?”

“Nope!” Bendy cheerfully replied. But then it rocked up onto it’s tiptoes, looking Joey in the eye. “And, uh, Joey pal? Yer gonna need to get ‘cherself a new guy ‘ta mop up the place. Sammy-boy got a bit...Overenthusiastic. If y’know what I mean.”

Joey blanched a bit, which seemed to indicate he did. He nodded. “I’ll...Get on that. Along with the…” Bendy winked and made a clicking sound. “...Right. It’s--It’s coming. I  _ promise _ ,” Bendy nodded, humming, looking up at Boris with a sort of ‘ _ suuuure _ -you-do’ look to it. Bendy went off to the side, pulling Boris along with it, as Joey passed them by to go down the hallway and to his office. “Don’t make a mess!”

Bendy waved him goodbye.

The wolf let out a bit of a huff, his voice cracking a bit into more familiar human tones as he said, “ _ Joey-- _ ”

_ Let me out, let it crack, stupid demon, you have to know, I’m right here, I’m Wally--! _

Bendy elbowed his leg. The wolf winced, looking down at the demon, who was frowning in a displeased fashion. It took his hand once again, though, and put a smile back on as it began to lead him through the hallways. “Well, c’mon, Boris! Let’s have a big adventure together, old time’s sake!”

Boris smiled wide, nodding rapidly, all too glad to be with a friend.

The former janitor inside of Boris screamed in frustration.

**Author's Note:**

> "I'm gonna withhold judgement on Boris until chapter three comes out," I said. "I'm certainly not going to write another fic that'll be disproven in a few months. That would be absurd."
> 
> ...So anyway, this happened. Sometimes I just have ideas for how things go down and I get the urge to write 'em out, all the same, really. You guys like my headcanons, and I like knowing I entertain you, so all's well!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
